Thank you to whoever nominated this fic at Rogue Poet Awards! It's much appreciated.

*****

Chapter 10

Buffy opened the door hesitantly, poking her head in to look around before stepping into the foyer. “Mom?”

“Buffy, is that you?” Her mother’s voice came from the kitchen, and a moment later, she appeared, a delighted smile on her face. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home!”

“Kind of a spur of the moment thing. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course I don’t mind, honey,” Joyce replied, gathering her daughter up in a hug. “You know I always love to see you.”

Buffy clung to her mother, suddenly feeling like a child again, wrapped up in her embrace, and it was a struggle not to burst into tears right there in the foyer. All the fear and anger and frustration and guilt she’d been feeling welled up to the surface, threatening to spill out of her.

“Mommy,” she said under her breath.

“Are you hungry?” Joyce asked, pulling away to get a good look at her. “Look at you, you’re skin and bones. Don’t they feed you at college?”

“Mostly French fries and ramen noodles,” she admitted.

“Well, we’ll have to get a good home-cooked meal into you.” She paused, considering. “Except I don’t really have anything to cook. But I was about to order some Chinese – how does that sound?”

Buffy smiled. “Sounds good, Mom.”

Joyce put her arm around Buffy’s shoulders, hugging her against her side as they headed into the kitchen. “Oh, I’m so glad you stopped by. It’s such a pain to order Chinese for one person.”

“It’s that ten dollar minimum for delivery,” Buffy commiserated. “Do you know how much Chinese food you have to get to spend ten dollars?”

With their order placed and the delivery on its way, Joyce fixed drinks for the two of them and they settled down on the sofa. “So, tell me all about college. How’s the new semester going?”

“Um, my classes are okay,” she replied. “Willow’s not in any of them, which means I have to do all the homework myself. But, you know, it’s good.”

“And what about that boy you like?” Joyce gave her a knowing smile.

“Oh, Riley? He’s… well, we’re kinda dating.”

“That’s wonderful, sweetie. When do I get to meet him?”

“I don’t know…” She shrugged noncommittally. She wasn’t even sure how long she’d be dating Riley, the way things were going. It felt as though she was a completely different person now, so changed from the girl who’d come home at Christmas bubbling about her budding romance with her TA.

Not that her relationships had ever been simple – being the Slayer took care of that – but she’d had such hope for her and Riley, a relationship full of promise rather than star-crossed angst. Her rapist had robbed her of that, made her flinch at every touch, made her paranoid and distrustful and hard.

“You’re not embarrassed of your mother, are you?” Joyce teased her.

“No,” she murmured, glancing up at her mother’s face, and though her answer was sincere, she couldn’t muster up a convincing smile to return the banter.

“Honey, are you all right?” Joyce asked, cuddling her closer and stroking her hair. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

“Just a little down, I guess.”

She ached to tell her mother everything, to pour out her troubles and unload the burden of her tumultuous emotions. She longed to be comforted like a child, cradled and rocked until her fears were eased. And yet, the ever-present weight of shame held her back. Wasn’t this just what her mother had warned her about? The dangers of college parties, of frat boys with overeager libidos. Weren’t these the lessons she’d been taught? Don’t drink too much or leave your cup unattended, chew your ice, always have a buddy. Hadn’t she promised to be careful? Hadn’t she promised she wouldn’t get in trouble?

“Trust me, Mom. I can take care of myself.”

But she hadn’t. She’d broken the rules; she’d let down her guard. Her mother would be so disappointed if she knew.

“I miss you when you’re away,” Joyce mused, rousing her out of her thoughts.

“Mom, I’m just across town.”

“I know that,” she replied with a smile, her fingers twining through the strands of hair that framed Buffy’s face. “But I still miss seeing you every day.”

Leaning her head against her mother’s shoulder, Buffy closed her eyes and said, “I miss you, too.”

*****

“You’re sure that everything’s okay?” Joyce probed, as the two of them perched on stools at the breakfast bar and dug into the Chinese food.

Buffy glanced down at her carton of rice. “Fine, Mom.”

“You and Willow didn’t have a fight, did you? You haven’t mentioned her at all, or any of your other friends.”

She was struck dumb for a moment, impressed by her mother’s intuition. “Yeah, I guess we kind of did.”

“What happened?”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Joyce reached over to put her arm around Buffy’s shoulders. “It can be hard living with someone. Even when you’re good friends. It’s okay to have it out sometimes.”

“It’s not just Willow,” Buffy admitted. “It’s everybody –Xander and Riley, too. They’re all mad at me.”

“What did you fight about?”

“It’s complicated.”

When her mother gave her an expression that said that wasn’t a good enough answer, she added, “It was all different reasons. I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now, and it’s making me kind of tense, I guess.” She sighed. “At this rate, pretty soon the only one who’ll be speaking to me will be Spike.”

“That… vampire you don’t like?”

“Turns out he’s not so bad,” Buffy replied, a small smile creeping across her face.

“He’s always seemed quite nice to me,” Joyce mused, prompting her daughter to give her a dubious sidelong glance.

“Sooo not the point, Mom.”

“You’re right. What was the point?” she teased.

“The point is… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make things better.”

“Talking always helps,” Joyce advised her. “You’ll never work anything out if you don’t talk to each other.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Buffy grudgingly admitted.

“Do you want me to cancel this trip to San Francisco? I can stay here if you need me.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine, Mom. Just being here has helped. Really.”

*****

Buffy got her chance to give talking a try the next day, when she answered the front door to find Xander on the porch. “Xander, hi,” she greeted him, trying to hold in her surprise.

“Willow said you’d be here,” he explained, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Uh, can I come in?”

Buffy nodded, swinging the door open wide to let him in. Joyce had already left for the gallery, so they had the house to themselves. He followed her into the living room, where they perched awkwardly on the sofa, not making eye contact, sneaking glances only when the other wasn’t looking.

“Before, you asked me why I lied.”

Buffy’s head snapped up at Xander’s abrupt opening. She turned toward him to find his head bowed as he leaned forward, both elbows resting on his knees.

“I was ashamed, okay? I wanted to pretend it never happened – because I was horrified at what I did under that spell. But I would never, in my right mind…” He looked up suddenly, his eyes pleading with her. “Buffy, you have to believe me. I would never willingly hurt you.”

“I know,” she murmured.

Xander’s expression became perplexed. “Then why…?”

“Because I had to be sure,” she said apologetically. With one hand, she rubbed her forehead in frustration. “Xander, I’m losing my mind. I’m getting paranoid and suspicious, and I’m screwing things up with everyone. I just…” She heaved a deep sigh, preparing herself for the confession. “I’m having a hard time with this, more than I’ve let on.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Buffy?” he asked. “I would’ve done anything you asked me to. If you needed help, or – or even if you just needed space, I would’ve… ”

“I know… and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’ve never once thought that you would hurt me, or that you wanted to… and I should’ve listened to that. I should’ve trusted you this time. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” he replied, pulling her into a hug. “God, Buffy, I’m so sorry for everything. I hate to see you going through this.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Thanks. It means a lot that you care.”

“Of course I care,” he said, sounding vaguely surprised that she could possibly think otherwise. “You’re my best friend. And I know if it were me going through something, you’d be right there for me.”

She tightened her arms around him again briefly before they separated. “So, about Spike…”

Xander shook his head, torn. “Man, Buffy…”

“I know, I know. But he’s been helping me. Don’t ask how; he just is. And I owe him this, and it’ll be one less thing for me to worry about.”

“Yeah, all right,” he said with a sigh. “But if he so much as looks at me funny, he’s gone.”

Buffy grinned. “Deal.”

*****

With one conversation down, she decided she might as well attempt to cross another one off her list.

Buffy hesitantly crossed the threshold at Lowell House, her first time back since the disastrous dinner with Riley that had sent her to counseling in the first place. The house was quiet, as usual. Between their cover stories as UC Sunnydale students and their secret lives as members of the Initiative, the residents didn’t get a lot of free time to just hang out around the house.

Come to think of it, maybe this was a bad idea. Why subject herself to being here when she didn’t even know if Riley was around? She should’ve called. Calling was definitely better. Calling was the way to go. In fact, she’d just sneak back out the way she came, with no one the wiser, and once she got home, she could call –

“Buffy?”

Only a few steps away from the door, she spun around at the sound of the voice. “Graham. Hi. Um, your face is looking… well, better is relative, right?”

If Graham found her awkward attempt at conversation either humorous or insulting, he didn’t let on. “You probably shouldn’t be here,” he said solemnly.

“What, Riley and I get into a fight, and suddenly I’m persona non gratin?”

“Grata.”

Buffy blinked. “What?”

“Never mind.” Graham shook his head. “Listen, Buffy, nothing personal. It’s just… the guys don’t think very much of you these days, so it’d probably be better if you didn’t show up here.”

“Nothing personal, huh? I got raped at their house, and the guys don’t think very much of me?” she scoffed, her hands on her hips. “I think there’s something wrong with that picture.”

“I’m sorry about that, I really am. But we know you’ve been harboring an HST,” he said bluntly. “That doesn’t sit well with the Initiative.”

“You mean Spike?” Buffy stared at him incredulously. “You people already neutered him. What more could you possibly want? Just leave him alone!”

“Hostile 17 is a valuable specimen with a very expensive experimental implant. There’s no way we can just let it walk away.”

Buffy bristled at the use of the word “it” to describe Spike. “You already did, when you let him escape,” she retorted. “And if you think I’m going to help you lock him up and experiment on him some more, you’re crazy.”

Graham just took a deep breath, and though she’d never let on, his continued calm in the face of her deliberately confrontational attitude was just the slightest bit intimidating. Sure enough, his only response was a warning, “Buffy, you don’t want to go against the Initiative.”

“I’m sorry, is that a threat?” she replied, with more confidence than she felt. “Maybe the Initiative better remember that I’m the Slayer, and this is my town. You want Spike, you’re gonna have to go through me.” With that, she spun on her heel and headed for the door again. Just before she went outside, she turned back to Graham with a demure expression and said sweetly, “Tell Riley I stopped by, okay?”